"Maybe I could take you some time," Cullen's voice dropped low, his breath whispering against her ear.
"Is it safe? I know the Inquisitor solved the whole rebellion, but I thought bandits had..."
"There's always later," he answered, his eyes boring into hers.
Lana smiled. She trailed her freed fingers along his jawline, "I'd like that."
"I...uh," her heat flushed along his face as his gaze hungered. "I'm not sure what to talk about next."
Her finger drifted along his slack lips and ran up the length of his new scar. She wanted to ask him about it but knew better. She had her own scars she'd never talk about. Cullen blinked from the contact, his body rigid as he maintained a careful balance beside her. So close to him, she could savor his personal musk, and now it struck her what was so different about him. How had she not noticed that change?
Her eyes closed, Lana asked, "How long's it been since you've gone without?"
"What? I...uh, gone without- What are you asking?" Cullen's flush switched to a full blush as his panicked eyes zipped around the room.
"Lyrium," Lana smiled. "What did you think I...oh," she blushed herself and stammered, "I didn't meant to ask, not that it's any of my, though I suppose it almost was. Ha!"
Cullen's thumb circled along her back, his fingers sliding across her bare skin as he re-positioned the towel. "How do you know I'm no longer taking lyrium? Did someone tell you?"
Lana touched her nose, "I can smell it. Templars always smelled different when you drank it, a metallic chemical burn."
"Oh, I didn't know." He folded back from her, "It's complicated, the reasons for it, for not taking it anymore..."
She gripped tighter to his jaw and tried to catch his sinking eyes, "Are you well?"
"Yes, as well as can be expected."
"Then that's all I need to know."
He smiled and dipped his head, "Thank you." Lana struggled up and caught his lips in a gentle kiss. She pulled back before it grew to anything hotter than what she'd dreamed of for her wound's sake. Cullen's fingers slid across her skin as she sat up along with the towel.
Inspecting the crimson stain upon it, he lightly touched her wound and found nothing fresh. "I believe it's stopped."
"I know," Lana smiled, "it did a few minutes after I laid down."
"Then why did I..."
"Because," she picked up his gentle hand in hers. Her thumb massaged the callouses along the pads of his palm. She bore nearly the same on her own hand from the staff. "I enjoyed the feel of you touching me."
Cullen gasped at her honest answer. He slipped down upon the pillow, his breath whispering beside her ear. "Would it be too forward of me if I say I enjoy touching you as well?"
"Only if you plan to never do it again," Lana smiled at him. She twisted to her side to face the wall and Cullen cupped his body around hers. His hand wrapped around her hip just below the wound and pulled her even tighter. To sleep while held in Cullen's arms, she'd never thought a thing was ever possible. And now, her body was buzzing too much to let her get anywhere close to rest.
"Well, commander of the Inquisition. That's a pretty big job there. How'd you stumble across it?"
"Cassandra approached me in Kirkwall," his heat washed over her, blanketing her in the first veil of safety she'd felt in over a year.
"Interesting. I've only heard bits and pieces about the right hand from the left. How about you tell me all about this Seeker of yours."
Chapter Six
Betting It All
"Come with me," Hawke barreled into their shared room with determination on her face and a crown of flowers upon her head.
Lana turned away from her book and pointed at the floral arrangement, "What's with the flowers?"
"What flowers?" Hawke said with such confusion Lana feared she either imagined them or her cousin truly didn't know they were there. "Never mind, come on. Put down your book. That's all you've been doing for the past three days, squatting in this room reading."
"I believe I've been healing," Lana gestured to her stab wound that was now well on its way to being a nuisance scar that only throbbed when she sneezed. "And studying up on rift magic. I'm impressed despite the lack of circles how much research has already been eked out from them. It seems as if..."
"That's boring, you can't keep doing the boring stuff!" Hawke half collapsed in the doorway, her hands skimming across the ground like an exhausted child. "We should do something fun. Really fun too, not your little dancing bear fun."
"It wasn't a bear, it was a poorly sculpted dog, and it wasn't supposed to dance," Lana frowned while glancing at her once finished and then again obliterated device. Getting it right was proving more tricky than she expected. How did the tranquil make it look so easy?
"I'm bored, you're bored," Hawke whined some more.
"I'm not bored," Lana sniped back. After returning the next morning with enough books for Lana to collapse a library, Hawke resumed her duties of watching over the wounded and possibly dangerous mage. Unfortunately, Hawke was not made to be contained within four walls for very long. Lana encouraged her cousin to take long walks during the day before they murdered each other in their sleep. The commander stopped by on occasion, and almost always when Hawke was sitting in the corner trying to whittle a set of daggers out of a larger sword. This, of course, required the two of them to pretend he was merely checking on the rate of her recovery and to update her. Despite the constant chaperon, Cullen never came with a plan on what to drone on about. He managed to fight off the blush from the blunder, but his recitation of troop movements to the bemused grey warden did not help their cover story.
Only once did Cullen knock on the door when Hawke was on one of her 'you're wearing through the stone floor' walks. Even alone, they spoke of genteel topics and kept apart...for about three minutes. Cullen nearly jumped out of the window when Hawke dropped her latest haul from unguarded barrels right outside the door. The near close call kept them guarded and cautious, at least until Lana was well enough to resume her own duties away from her cousin.
Hawke's big brown eyes pleaded with the mage, "Please, I'll let you have all my pudding from dinner."
"You despise pudding," Lana sighed even as she shut her book. No matter how much she fought her cousin on principle, stretching her legs sounded nice. And it was unlikely to kill her now.
"All the more reason for you to eat it instead. Come on, I swear, you'll love it. All the best people will be there."
Lana paused in rising and snapped her head at Hawke. "People?"
Hawke slapped her hand against her mouth, "There I go giving away the surprise. Just grab your stick thing and let's go."
"My staff," Lana sighed, as if the Champion of Kirkwall didn't know the damn difference. She'd prefer to leave it safely stored away from whatever Hawke was planning but she needed it as a cane. Putting the weight of her left side against it, she limped towards the rack to grab her cloak.
"Nah nah, you won't be needing that," Hawke waved her hands away at Lana.
She was dressed more presentably than Cullen's tunic and bare legs, but her attire wasn't something she'd want to get caught in front of an entire tavern in. "You're certain of that?"
"Yes, just a couple people, it'll be no big deal. I promise. Come on," Hawke extended her arm and Lana took it. Despite being in the hold, Hawke still wore most of the Champion armor. She seemed particularly attached to the talon-like braces now frozen from the chill of night. Lana slipped her cuffs lower to shield her fingers from it and cursed herself for never getting into gloves. All the other mages were doing it.
"I know I shall regret this," Lana sighed, "but let's go."
"You'll love it, trust me," Hawke squealed.
* * *
She'd first anticipated a tavern, then the great hall. After that a back room in the kitchens or a visit up to Leliana's rookery. But Hawke yanked her across the battlements rimming Skyhold and kept opening the door to every closed room along the way. "Nope, no
pe, nope, sorry, nope," became a familiar refrain as she uncovered either ruins, offices, or surprised dignitaries in the middle of undressing.
After awhile, Lana suspected Hawke had no real plan in mind and used it as an excuse to get her out of the sick room. It seemed just as likely as anything else. Hawke seemed to operate on a string of bad luck that by the grace of the Maker turned good. Planning was not her strong suit. Opening a random door and expecting a party to fall out seemed within her wheelhouse, until her cousin finally opened door number 12. It was as dilapidated as the other rooms waiting to be spruced up. Broken beams and rotted wood were piled along the edges, and vines sprouted off the filthy stones, but someone installed a round table large enough to seat ten in the middle of the room. Chairs circled around it, all but two of them occupied.
"I got her!" Hawke shouted, drawing everyone away from their game of cards. A golden lantern twisted soft light upon the table, barely chasing away the shadows of night, but the man directly across from them flared up his fist with purple magic.
Dorian grinned wide, "Ah, excellent. We were afraid we'd have no new coffers to dip into for this round."
"Be careful what you wish for, Pavus," Leliana leaned in, the light flaring her red hair to an orange sunset. She'd shrugged off her hood for this meeting. "Lanny's sent many a man home crying."
"Not for want of trying, I hope," he smiled that infectious grin while Hawke released her hold upon Lana and stomped to the table.
Her cousin yanked back a chair beside Varric and fell onto the side of it. She propped one foot up on a barrel then slid her cards off the table into her hand. "Ah, this was all shit," Hawke cursed, throwing them back.
"It's not really bluffing if we all looked at your cards while you were out of the room," Varric chuckled to his old friend, then he turned his eyes to watch Lana place her staff against the doorway. "Snowflake. What'll ya be having? We have mead, and mead, piss pretending to be mead, and I believe Ruffles over there is savoring some vintage wine from Lord Flufflebutt's ancient cask bottled during the nug age."
Josephine choked a bit on her wine, then placed the glass down pristinely, "You are closer to the truth than you might imagine, Master Tethras."
"I am a connoisseur in the fine wines, madam," Varric said waving his hand dramatically in front of his exposed chest.
"You're a connoisseur in fine bullshit," Hawke cut back then bellowed a laugh. It was so powerful the table rattled, causing the betting pot to undulate as pieces skittered to the edges to fall off.
The Inquisitor turned to Lana while she slipped into the chair between him and Leliana. "Snowflake?"
"Hm?" Lana stretched her side to work out the knot and got a glance at Leliana's worried brow.
"Varric's charming nicknames for everyone," Dorian said directly across from her. "What does yours mean? That you have a frosty demeanor, or a particular fondness for winter? Perhaps you can blush white."
"I'm good at ice spells," Lana said rolling her fist just enough to coat it in her nick-namesake.
"I see he puts as much thought and effort into them as I suspected," Dorian chuckled.
"Hey, I try very hard to not try very hard at 'em," Varric harrumphed.
"At least you all get something, I'm stuck with Hawke."
"There's always waffles," Varric said. He gathered up the discarded cards from her and passed them to the Inquisitor.
"Right, because that one took well," Hawke rolled her eyes and grabbed up a mug. She sniffed it, took a drink, pulled a face, then took another one. Lana would be surprised that she kept going back but that was how Hawke drank everything.
"What game are we playing?" Lana asked. Sitting up primly, she dropped her hands on her lap as if she was attending to a duchess' tea instead of a backroom game of cards. "Diamondback?"
"You're aware of Diamondback, my lady?" Josephine asked blotting a droplet of crimson wine off her lip.
"Aware? She won the shirts off five pirates backs," Varric stirred up old memories better left dead and buried. "What'd you ever do with them anyway?" The Inquisitor cut the deck and passed out the cards. Lana used the distraction to gather each one into her hand and glare at them.
"It was an unfair advantage, they didn't understand the game," she said while shuffling her own hand around. Everyone picked up their cards in their own special way. Leliana kept them flat against the table, only lifting up the barest hint of an edge. Using both hands, Dorian squared his shoulders and placed the cards close enough to his lips to kiss them. As if not having a care in the world, Josephine swept them up and ran her finger along the edge. Varric was his usual self, trying to get every single possible tell out of the way early before he actually looked at his hand. And Hawke, there were none like Hawke in all of thedas.
"Shit, shit, shit. Ooh, that's a good one. I always liked that one. Shit." She all but threw the cards face up onto the table to show everyone which was her favorite. The sad thing was, half the time she still won the damn game despite being unable to bluff her way out of a sack. That family good luck which Lana somehow missed out on always rose up to save her.
The Inquisitor was delicate in his approach, even more so than Josephine. His eyes hunted across every card for a second longer than was necessary, as if he expected them to confess their secrets.
"Oghren," Leliana said, distracting Lana from staring through the Inquisitor, "he taught us how to play Diamondback during the blight. Among other things."
"Actually," Lana scratched her forehead and threw in the first bid. "I learned it in the circle tower."
"Oh, ho," Dorian perked up at that, "I didn't think your jailers went in for that sort of nonsense. Isn't it all up at dawn, scrub the floors, drop and give me ten?"
Lana folded her hands and placed her chin upon them to glare at the tevinter mage, "We found our fun when we could."
"Sometimes with the templars," Josephine interrupted, then she giggled, "or so the rumors go. I raise the bid to ten."
People shuffled off a few of their cards for replacements, but Lana hung onto hers. She never liked to reveal a weakness this early in the game. Hawke loomed over Varric's shoulder and spotted a card she preferred. The two of them tried to negotiate a way to hand it over to her. It was completely against the rules, but no one spoke against it, the game more relaxed than the typical cutthroat deals in other taverns. It felt good to only be making decisions that cost her a few buttons instead of the deaths of countless people. She'd missed this. Hawke was her own entertainment in 6 foot plus form, but being surrounded and sharing her thoughts with others was her life for so long before the wardens changed all that. She never realized how strange being alone truly was until she was out of the tower. After being watched every day of her life since she was six, finding herself alone felt almost sinful. It was hard to shake even ten years later.
"Lana," Dorian began, "I may call you Lana, I hope." She nodded for him to continue. "The dwarf here and I have a small bet and, given your history, I suspect you might be just the one to solve it."
She blinked and glanced up from her cards into a smile that opened a pit in her stomach. This couldn't be good. "What is it?" she asked against all common sense.
"As I understand it, you have a rather intimate knowledge of our dear Commander Cullen." Dorian's voice dropped down into a stern mimic of Cullen's while saying his name.
Lana ran her fingers against the cards as she stretched her neck. After a second she sighed, "Where did you hear that?"
"Let's just say a rather large bird told me," Dorian tried to play coy, but Hawke slapped her knee from the joke.
"Large bird? I like that."
"Don't believe everything Hawke tells you." Lana glared at her cousin.
"It's," Hawke pointed at Lana then Dorian, "probably good advice."
"I see. Well, regardless, you've been around templars before. Being in your little circle together, or however it works down south. So, you might be able to solve this impasse we've reached. We're try
ing to determine what material our dear commander's smallclothes are composed of."
Lana choked on her own saliva from the shock, "What?"
"I suspect he's into something tiny and silky. All gruff armor and stern glances on the outside but underneath that it's satiny lace."
"That's uh..." Lana struggled for a way to save herself and defend Cullen.
Varric sat up beside Dorian and slapped his conspirator on the back, "I say he skinned a bear and whatever didn't fit on that ruffled coat of his, he wrapped around himself."
"That makes a lot of sense," Hawke said bobbing her head at Varric. "No way all of a bear pelt went into his coat wrap thing." She circled her fingers around her neck and sent the flower crown scattering to the floor. Without saying a word, Hawke scooped it up and placed it back upon her head.
Maker, out of all the ways she could get on Cullen's bad side it had to involve a tevinter mage and his smallclothes! Breathing to steady her voice, Lana shrugged, "I'm sorry, I can't help you. I have no idea what material makes up any templar's underthings much less the commander's."
Dorian blinked slowly and she dug her fingernails into her cards, afraid he'd call her on the bluff. But then the grin cracked and he shrugged, "Ah, it was only an idea. I suppose it's back to plan B, dwarf."
"That's all on you, Sparkles. I prefer my head where it is."
Mercifully, the conversation drifted away from Cullen and smallcothes in general to what was upon everyone's minds. Lana managed to get caught up on what she'd missed in thedas while she was in exile. So much had changed quickly both in Ferelden and Orlais it was going to take her weeks to figure it all out. Even the mage rebellion ending only brought more questions to her mind. Lana knew that Ali...the crown had let them stay in Redcliffe and something happened to break that deal, but Fiona must have some endgame. She wasn't the type to back easily into a corner.
"Do you remember the game we used to play during cards?" Leliana asked Lana. She unearthed a mug from beside her and poured it to the rim from the qunari sized pitcher on the table.
My Love Page 21
